Jabberjay
by xTwirlForMex
Summary: Welcome to the 74th Annual Hunger Games, featuring District 12 volunteer tributes Katniss Everdeen and Gale Hawthorne. Different tributes mean different scenarios. Nothing is like it was before. And this time, only one tribute comes out.
1. One

I sit on our rock in the woods, waiting. I know I shouldn't take this seriously, but today is the day of the reaping. And no matter how slim the chances are, either of us could end up in the arena. I would like to believe differently, but even I have forty-two names entered. That's an extremely high number, even if there are thousands of names.

If I did get reaped, I wouldn't mind being in the arena that badly. I have been hunting my whole life, and really, how different could it be? But my Katniss in the arena . . .

Just the thought of the very slim chance of seeing Katniss in the arena makes me so upset that I stab my arrow into the loaf of bread I just bought for this occasion. Why did I do that? I observe the bread. Smiling to myself, it looks kind of funny, like I shot the loaf of bread. I decide to keep it there.

I hear footsteps coming in my direction and I can't help but smile. It's Katniss, and at least for now, she's safe with me. When she see me, the cutest smile breaks across her face, and I like to think that smile is only reserved for me. It's her Gale smile, and I want to keep it that way.

"Hey Catnip," I tell her. I take in her beautiful face, her body, that adorable smile. I cannot lose her. I will not lose her. I can't afford to think this way.

"Look what I shot," I say, holding up the bread. Her eyes widen, and she laughs. It's the most beautiful thing I've heard all day. I can't help but feel special because I never hear her act this happily around anyone but me. I'm convinced that she loves me just as much as I love her, but she's afraid to admit it.

She comes over and takes the bread, pulling out the arrow. She smells it, putting it right up to her cute little face, and I can't help but smile.

"Mm, still warm," she says. "What did it cost you?"

"Just a squirrel," I lie. It actually cost me a lot more than that, but knowing Katniss, she won't eat it if she knows how valuable it really was. But I wanted today to be special. It is the reaping, after all. "Think the old man was feeling sentimental this morning. Even wished me luck," I say.

"Well, we all feel a little closer today, don't we?" she says sarcastically. "Prim left us a cheese," she says, and pulls it out of her pocket.

I can't help smiling. "Thank you, Prim. We'll have a real feast," I say. I clear my throat and mimic Effie Trinket's trademark expression in a (horrible) Capitol Accent. "I almost forgot! Happy Hunger Games!" I pull a few blackberries from the bushes surrounding us. "And may the odds –" I toss a berry in the air for Katniss, who catches it in her mouth.

"-Be _ever_ in your favor!" She finishes, and we both break out in a smile. We know each other so well that we're even finishing each other's sentences. I take out my knife and slice the bread, staring at Katniss the whole time. I don't know why I'm so nervous. But no, it's not really that I'm nervous, it's just that I feel oddly more protective of Katniss this year. I spread Prim's cheese on the bread, and place a basil leave on each one while Katniss picks blackberries. If this isn't a grand breakfast, I don't know what is. I stuff a piece of bread in my mouth, savoring the flavor. I haven't had a meal as good as this one for weeks.

It could always be like this. Me and Katniss, Katniss and Me. Making meals for each other, laughing and hunting together. We could really be happy. But not in District 12, never in District 12. We could leave, get as far away as possible where no one would find us. The thought makes my stomach turn in excitement. But Katniss would never be up for it.

That would mean leaving her family, her precious Prim and her blank-faced mother. It would mean leaving the District, which for some reason she probably doesn't want to do. It would mean living with me for the rest of her life which . . . I hope is a good thing.

"We could do it, you know," I say quietly. Why did I say that? I just ruined everything! This was supposed to be a private fantasy of mine!

"What?" she asks. At this point, I could cover myself with a lie, but Katniss would probably see right through it. So for all it's worth, I decide to just keep going.

"Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it," I say. When I see the expression on her face, I say "If we didn't have so many kids." Unfortunately, Katniss's expression relaxes.

"I never want to have kids," she says. Of course she doesn't. Katniss Everdeen, so concerned about the welfare of others that she completely ignores her feelings and is completely against any type of romance. I figure for her, meeting up in the woods to hunt with me is about as romantic as it gets.

"I might," I say, "If I didn't live here." Of course, I wouldn't want to have a child here either, what with the dangers that the Hunger Games pose. But If I were to run off in the woods with a special girl, then that's a whole different story.

"But you do," she says, obviously irritated. I groan to myself. Good job, Katniss, yes I do live in District 12. However, I just proposed to you that we run off to the woods, or have you forgotten? I smile to myself. Katniss is still just as stubborn as always, and I wouldn't want her any other way.

"Forget it," I say. Obviously, this conversation has gotten me nowhere. I stand up, wiping my hands on my pants. "I'll see you later, okay? Wear something pretty," I tell her, and I start for home. I can see that her mouth is open as if she wants to say something, but she can't find the words.

I don't know why I got up and left so quickly. Maybe I was just irritated. Maybe I just wanted some time to think, to fantasize, away from Katniss. But that was stupid of me. Especially on the day of the reaping, I should be by Katniss every chance I get. But it's too late now, I'm already too far gone.

At least when I next see her, she'll look beautiful.

Somehow, I find myself walking towards the square for the reaping. I would have thought that by now, I would have found a way to avoid coming to this. But like always, the Capitol holds all the power. Someday, that's going to change.

Someday, Katniss will finally agree to run off with me. Then the Capitol will never be able to find us, and we'll show them who's boss around here. Maybe they won't even look for us, and we can just live in peace.

I can imagine Katniss and I living down by a creek. The area is heavily wooded, and we are in our own little clearing among the trees. I sit up against a log, Katniss snuggled in my arms. She's finally agreed to be romantic, seeing as she now can be because we're free.

"Gale," she tells me, "you know I've always loved you." She kisses my face soft and light, and I kiss her back. She takes my hand in hers and runs her fingers along it.

"I know," I tell her. "I've always loved you, too." She reaches up and kisses me more passionately, and I kiss her back. Suddenly she is on top of me, running her hands along my stomach, slowly unbuttoning my shirt and –

Effie Trinket's voice brings me back to my senses. "Ladies first!" she says. She reaches into the girl's ball and digs around for a name. Just pick one already. Just please pick one that's not Katniss Everdeen.

Sure enough, it's not Katniss Everdeen. It's Prim.

Everything happens in a blur. My Katniss is screaming Prim's name and running up on stage. My Katniss is screaming. "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

My heart stops, and my blood runs cold. My Katniss is heading into the arena. I feel lightheaded, and suddenly the sunlight seems too bright. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, zoning out everything around me.

Katniss is in the arena. She is facing a ruthless, unnaturally large boy. His eyes are narrowed and he glares at her, and he thrusts his knife right into her skull -

My eyes fly open. I am panicked. I must do something. Prim is hanging on to Katniss, doing her best to stop her big sister from heading to her certain death. Before I know what I am doing, I run up to the stage with them, and pull Prim off Katniss.

"Up you go, Catnip," I manage to choke out. I walk Prim back to her mother, my face as expressionless as a stone. I can't even think. I can't pay attention long enough to listen to anything that's happening around me.

Suddenly, there is no one else in the world but me and Katniss. I don't care what anyone thinks anymore about anything. I can't let my Katniss into the arena.

And as they're calling Peeta Mellark's name as the boy tribute, I find myself bellowing louder than I thought possible. "I volunteer!" I yell. "I volunteer!" I get a look at Peeta. His face is sullen and disbelieving. His bright blue eyes are empty. I would have expected him to look somewhat relieved. After all, I did just save his life.

I stumble onto the stage. "How exciting," Effie Trinket says. "I bet my buttons that was your brother!" she says.

"No," I mumble, not caring enough to hide my irritation.

"Well then," she says. "Our District 12 tributes, Katniss Everdeen and . . . " she pauses. "What's your name?" she whispers harshly.

"Gale Hawthorne," I mumble back to her, almost inaudibly. I'll be surprised if she heard that correctly.

" . . . Gale Hawthorne!" she finishes. She motions for Katniss and I to shake hands. Her hand is trembling in mine, and I give it a squeeze to calm it.

Her beautiful eyes search mine as mine do hers, searching for answers.


	2. Two

Katniss and I are rushed to separate rooms for our final goodbyes. I've always figured that maybe it would be easier on the tributes if they just skipped this step. I am ushered into a fancy room with fancy fabric. I couldn't care less how fancy the room is. This is the Capitol's way of pampering us before they slaughter us.

My mother and siblings are the first to come through the door. The children are all bawling, and my mother has tears streaming down her face as well. Great. This is exactly what I need.

"I knew you were a good man," she tells me, sitting down next to me on this fancy couch. "It's just sad that this happened."

I take her hand and squeeze it. "It'll be okay," I choke out. "Just make sure the kids get enough to eat. I, uh, won't be there to hunt for them anymore, and neither will Katniss, so . . ." My voice fails. My siblings and mother gather me up in a group hug.

"Don't worry about us," she says. "It's you we have to worry about."

"It'll be okay," I repeat, even though I know this is a lie. I want to say more, but I can't think of what to say. Then the Peacekeepers rush in to take my family out.

"We love you!" I hear my mother call out. I attempt to smile, but I can't.

To my surprise, Peeta Mellark walks through the door. His blonde hair is messed up like he had been running his hands through it nervously. His blue eyes are watery, and I can't help but wonder what his problem is. He holds out his hand. "Peeta Mellark," he says weakly.

I take his hand and say, "Gale Hawthorne." He sits down, and so do I. I wait for him to speak, but he stares ahead blankly.

"What's your problem?" I ask, annoyed. I can't shake his expression out of my mind after I volunteered for him, and now he came here to see me even though I don't even know him.

"I don't know what to say," he admits. I conclude that there's something seriously wrong with him.

"How about a thank you?" I say, sarcastically. "Or did you want to go and get your head blown off?" I can't help picturing that blank, empty face of his getting sliced off. It's not pretty.

"I don't know," he says. What? Did he actually want to go to the Games? For a second, I feel bad. I thought I was doing him a favor. I thought that he was here to thank me. "I just wanted to protect her," he says quietly. And then, I take back every bad thought I ever had about him.

I know how he feels. All my life, I've wanted to protect her. I know there are other guys at school who have crushes on Katniss, but Peeta seems pretty serious. I want to tell him that I know how he feels, but this is my territory. I am her protector.

"I'll do it," I tell him. It's the first thing I've said firmly since the reaping. "I always have, and I always will." I pat him on the back. "You're a good kid," I tell him. When the Peacekeepers come and he walks out, he flashes just a hint of a sad, lost smile.

When I see Katniss again, I know that this is hard on her too. She has attempted to wipe her face clean of emotions, and to anyone else she would appear successful. But not to me; I know my Katniss better than that.

We are sent to our own rooms on the train, where we are instructed to get changed into fancy clothes and do whatever we want until we have to eat dinner. I don't want to wear anything the Capitol wants to give me, so I stay in my own clothes.

I decide that the best thing to do for an hour is sleep. I got up early this morning to trade for the bread, and after all of today's events, I am exhausted. I strip down to my underwear and climb into bed. The moment my head hits the soft pillows, I am out.

_Katniss and I are in the Games. The arena is a meadow, wide and open, with no trees in sight. You can see everybody and everybody can see you. I grab Katniss protectively. Out of nowhere, the blonde-haired, blue-eyed Peeta Mellark is running towards me and, with brute force, yanks me off of Katniss. Suddenly, big, clear cages fall on everyone in the arena. _

"_You can't protect Katniss now, can you?" Peeta asks me maliciously. He is the only one not trapped in a cage. "What's your little Katniss supposed to do?"_

_I look over at Katniss and she is pounding on her cage. "Gale!" she calls. "Gale!" She is screaming and pounding, and I can't take it. I look over at Peeta._

"_What if I were to take her out of her cage," he says, and pulls out a sharp, shiny knife, "and have some fun?" He flashes his white teeth viciously and, with a snap of his fingers, Katniss is free from her cage._

_She tries to run, but it is no use. He sprints toward her and catches her in his arms. He throws her on the ground and I can see blood gushing from her head. "Katniss," I moan._

"_Let's have some fun, shall we?" he says. In one clean swipe of his knife, he rips open her shirt. That's my Katniss. I can't let him do this._

"_Gale!" she yells. Peeta slowly slices his knife down Katniss's stomach, and her face is contorted in pain. I can't take it. I feel the urge to turn away, but I can't let her lose the little protection my watch is doing her. _

_She is pounding and thrashing wildly on the ground, screaming for me. "Gale!" she shrieks. She knows that I am sitting here, watching, but there's not a thing that I can do._

Someone is pounding on my door. "Gale!" It is Effie Trinket. "You're entirely too late to dinner!" she says angrily. When I don't respond, she says "This is preposterous!" and storms away.

I am covered in sweat and my breath is rapid. I sit up slowly, reminding myself that that never happened, and that for now Katniss is safe, and it is my job to protect her. I get out of bed and, putting on my own clothes, head down for dinner.

Everyone looks at me with their eyes wide. Katniss searches my eyes for some kind of explanation. She looks extremely worried, and it makes my stomach churn with guilt. I sit down quietly at the table.

Haymitch is the first to speak. "You look horrible, Gale." Everyone seems to relax a little bit, as if they had all been about to say the same thing. I want to scowl, but I don't. Not in front of Katniss.

"I fell asleep," I mumble. Effie Trinket lets out a nervous giggle. Katniss eyes me as if she doesn't believe me. It does sound like a lie.

"Well then, now that we're all here, let's eat," Effie says.

I've never had food like this in my lifetime. The food is luxurious unlike anything I've ever tasted, and even though Effie keeps reminding us not to eat too much, I can't help it. I know that I'm going to be sick after this, but pretty soon I will be nearly dying of hunger. I can't help but eat as much of this stuff as possible.

After this, we are required to watch the reapings that happened today. This way I can see what kind of people Katniss and I are up against. There are a couple contenders, Districts 2 and 11 appear to have powerful looking boys. And of course, the Career districts have talented tributes no matter what. There's always the people that don't seem to stand a chance, though, like the boy in District 10 with a crippled foot.

I can see Katniss's eyes widen as a twelve-year old girl gets chosen from District 11, and I know that this is because Katniss sees a resemblance to Prim. Katniss is waiting for a volunteer to step forward, but no one does.

I don't watch the recap of District 12's reaping. I close my eyes and shut my ears. I can't relive that memory. I probably look like a fool on the screen.

After watching the recaps, I decide that I need to talk to Katniss. She is walking back to her chambers, and I catch her arm. She looks at me, her face blank, and we sit down right on the floor.

Surprisingly, Katniss is the first to speak. "Where were you?" she asks. I know what she means. My mentor and escort probably think badly of me already.

"I fell asleep," I assure her. "I was having a nightmare," I mumble, hoping this will make her believe me more. Watching her face, I can tell that it does, as she has become very worried. Her big strong hunting partner is now being plagued by nightmares.

After a few moments of silent, she asks what's been on her mind ever since the reaping. "Why did you do it?" she asks quietly. I feel a twinge of guilt because I know that I have hurt her. She would have much rather gone into the arena with Peeta Mellark. Just thinking about him after that nightmare sends shivers down my spine.

"I wanted to protect you," I tell her. To this she gets angry.

"I'm perfectly capable of protecting myself! And now you've put me and you in the arena," she chokes, "and, and only one comes out!" There are tears filling up in her eyes and that's too much for me to bear. I've made my Katniss cry. I am failing. "What am I supposed to do?" she moans.

"You're supposed to win," I tell her. "I'm going to make sure you do." This doesn't satisfy her any more. I know what she's thinking.

How can she truly win if I die?


	3. Three

When I climb into bed, I realize that I need to do some serious thinking. I don't think I've quite accepted the fact that I'm going to be in the Hunger Games. And Katniss is going with me.

Everybody knows the rules. Twenty-four tributes go in, and one comes out. For the first time, I realize that both of us could die. But I'm going to try my hardest to make sure Katniss wins.

But how could I do that? Truly ensuring that Katniss wins would mean that I kill off every enemy except for myself. And then what? Katniss gets to kill me. She wouldn't do that, would she?

I begin to realize that maybe I haven't completely thought this plan through. I decide to just let everything play out in the arena. Yeah, that will be good . . .

"_Gale," Katniss whispers. "You wanted me to win." She is standing about five feet in front of me with her bow and arrow pointed directly at my heart. "I have to go home to Prim," she whispers._

_I close my eyes and the arrow plunges through my heart._

My eyelids fly open, but I quickly calm down. Why was that such a bad dream? That's what's going to happen, isn't it? I should accept that.

Seeing as sleep isn't going to happen any time soon, I decide to take a shower. There are so many buttons that I end up just pressing a couple. I go through the motions, showering without even thinking about what I'm doing.

I dry myself off with a warm towel, and without even bothering to put any sort of clothes on, climb into bed. My eyelids are about to close when a see a sliver of light coming from my door. It gets wider, and I realize someone is coming into my room. Quietly, Katniss slips into my room and sits on my bed. Oh, crap. I should have put some clothes on.

When I take a closer look at Katniss, I notice that she is barely dressed, too. She is only wearing a light tank top and shorts. Katniss must really want something from me.

She surveys my face to make sure that I am awake. And then without even saying anything, she climbs in under the covers next to me. "Katniss," I say hesitantly, "I don't have any clothes on."

I see her eyes widen in surprise and see her making up her mind about something. But then she just shrugs as if nothing could possibly matter anymore. "Gale, we're going to die," she says. And then she snuggles next to me and puts her head on my shoulder.

I smile, and in a sick sort of way, I realize that these Hunger Games might not be so bad after all.

"So what brings you here?" I ask her. Again she just shrugs, as if there is no answer in particular but a combination of a lot of things. Fear, loneliness . . . love?

"Gale," she whispers, "what if we're the last two left?" she asks. It's funny how this is exactly what I had been thinking earlier.

"You kill me," I answer, and when her eyes widen in disbelief and she shakes her head defiantly I add, "or I kill myself." This doesn't appear to make her feel any better at all.

"Did you think this through, Gale?" She doesn't want to kill me or see me die. She would much rather be in the arena with someone she didn't even know, like Peeta Mellark. His death would hardly affect her. But I would like to think that she would be affected by my death.

"No," I answer weakly. "I couldn't; I didn't have time to. All I knew was that I wasn't letting you go into that arena, and since there was nothing I could do about that, then I thought maybe I could protect you." Tears are streaming silently down her face. I have hurt her. Badly. Could I be a worse protector?

"Gale, we're both going to die," she informs me. Deep down, I know that this is true. And however terrible it may be, a small part of me wonders whether that is better than one of us having to live with the death of the other.

"Katniss, you're the best hunter I know. And together, we're the perfect team. We've practically been training for this all our lives. It's just hunting, Katniss. And that's what we do."

For some reason these words seem to reassure her. I wrap my arms around her, vowing never to let her go. She is crying into my shoulder, and suddenly I am thinking about running away again. Katniss breaks from the embrace and lies down.

I wrap my arm around her and she relaxes. I hear her breathing slow down and even out, and I know she is asleep. I am sleeping with Katniss Everdeen. I look at her. She is so beautiful when she sleeps. Her face looks so peaceful and I lean down to kiss her on the forehead. I tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear, and kiss her again, this time on the nose. I never would have gotten the chance to do anything like this if we had not both volunteered. I am so lucky to be with her right here, right now. And I know that until we die, I will never let her out of my sight. I want to spend every last moment we have together . . .

I wake up, not knowing what time it is, but only caring that Katniss is still beside me, snuggled up against me. Her hand is on my chest now and I never want her to leave. I sit in silence, smiling, staring at her.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps approaching the door. They are loud, and because of the way it sounds like the person is stumbling, I can only conclude that it is Haymitch. The door swings open carelessly. Katniss is still sleeping.

Haymitch enters, but he is staring at the floor. "Gale, there's something we need to –" He looks up and takes in the sight of me and Katniss together. He raises an eyebrow and laughs. "So this is why you volunteered, huh?" he says.

I can feel heat rising to my face. As if I haven't already made enough of a bad impression, Haymitch now thinks that the only reason I volunteered for Peeta was so that Katniss and I could . . . Haymitch laughs again. "I'll leave you two go," he says, "but I need to speak with you later." He winks and leaves the room.

I take a deep breath to calm myself. Then I lean down to kiss Katniss on the forehead. Her eyes flutter open and the corners of her mouth rise in a small, sleepy smile.

"Haymitch just came in," I told her. She looks surprised, and then a little embarrassed, but once again she sighs. Then she lets out a small laugh.

"It's only Haymitch," she says. She sits up. "So," she says, "what's the plan for today?"

I smile. I honestly have no idea. "I don't know," I tell her. "I guess we'll just have to find out." She smiles back and climbs out of bed.

"I'll see you in a little bit," she says, and just like that, she's gone. I sigh and fall back into my pillows. I tried to replay the past night's events in my head. Had this really happened? I picture Katniss, in her cute little outfit, sneaking into my room, snuggling up against me.

I smile, and open the drawers. I decide to get dressed into some Capitol clothes. They're new and a heck of a lot cleaner than my own. I pull on a navy blue button down shirt and some black pants. I don't think I've ever looked this nice. I admire myself in the mirror.

Today is going to be a good day.


	4. Four

When we sit down for breakfast, I can't help but feel good. I even see Effie in her bright colors with makeup that is the exact shade of blue on her dress eyeing me up. Now that's not so professional, is it Effie?

I stuff my face with more of the Capitol food. I just can't help it; it's so good. "So Haymitch," I say, my mouth still filled with food, "what's the plan for today?"

"In a few minutes, we'll be pulling into the station. You'll be put in the hands of your stylists. You're not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don't resist," Haymitch tells us.

I can make no guarantees. One year, the District 12 stylists made the tributes go naked and covered in black powder. I'm not sure I'd go along with that without putting up a good fight. Besides, that way I'd get some practice fighting for the games.

We all sit in silence for a while and say nothing. Finally, Haymitch asks us bluntly, "So are you guys any good? Or are we wasting our time here?" Katniss and I look at each other. We both know the answer. Yeah, we are good.

"I don't know," I say, "you tell me." I pick up my knife, throw it at the wall, and it lands in the seam between two panels in the walls. Haymitch's face shows no emotion.

"So you're good," he says, "and you're a show off. What about her?" he says. He nudges his head toward Katniss and winks at me. She throws her own knife through the air and it sticks in the same seam about five inches above mine.

"Good then," he says. "Well, first things first. Do you guys know each other?" He laughs wildly and without giving us a chance to say anything, he continues. "Okay then, we're almost at the Capitol. Why don't you two get acquainted with each other. You know, shake hands, tell each other your names, the whole bit." He laughs again.

I hold out my hand mockingly to Katniss. "My name's Gale Hawthorne," I say. She takes it and shakes it hard, her face filled with the same type of exaggerated emotion.

"My name's Katniss Everdeen," she says. "It's nice to finally meet you." We both laugh.

"Well that's not nice to go around mocking your mentor," says Effie sternly.

"Yes, sweethearts, that isn't very nice," says Haymitch. "People like you just aren't going to get any sponsors, now are you?" I think he's joking, but it's such a serious topic that I can't help but be a bit nervous. Once we are in the arena, our sponsors are the only chance we've got. And we can't get sponsors without Haymitch.

"Haymitch," Katniss says seriously, "what advice _can_ you give us?" She is asking the same thing everyone wants to know. How are Katniss and I going to stay alive in the arena? We haven't got a clue about any strategies. At least, I haven't.

"Just stay alive," Haymitch says nonchalantly. He gets up from his chair, knocking it over, and stumbles away.

"That's really all there is to it, sweethearts," he calls.

When we arrive at the Capitol, I very nearly vomit. The extravagantly bright colors that swarm the city would typically give off a lighthearted, candy-sweet mood if this were any other place. But this is the Capitol, where everything is bittersweet. They give us good food, then they send us to die. They give us quality clothes and shelter, then they send us to die. They paint the city sunny yellow, then they send us to die.

Katniss and I stare at the window saying nothing. There are people here, in crazy fashions and crazy colors, waving and screaming at us. We are frozen, without a clue how to react. These people are all here for _us_.

But who have we ever been? We were only those two kids who hunted. Those two kids who crossed that electrical fence every day, risking everything to supply our District with food. But now that we're being sent off to our death, we're suddenly famous. It makes absolutely no sense.

But what makes even less sense is the stylists. Haymitch told me not to resist them, but this is ridiculous. My prep team spreads a salve on my entire body that burns like fire.

"Now, soon, all your body hair will be gone!" squeaks one of the members of my prep team. "Won't that just be fabulous?" Every part of me wants to say no, no it is not fabulous. How does removing all of my body and facial hair improve my chances of surviving? But the prep team seems nice enough, and I don't want to be more unnecessarily harsh than I have to be.

"Yes, that will be nice," I mumble. The prep team squeals in delight, clearly exuberant about my fake enthusiasm. So I continue to let them do whatever they want to me as I zone out and think about other things.

_This is it. This is really it. I'm in the Hunger Games. After years and years of watching people slaughter others on television, I never thought I'd actually be one of them. I probably would've paid attention more to the strategies of the victors, instead of just moping around all those years. I wasn't one of those people who sat glued to their televisions. Instead, I tried to avoid watching the Games as much as possible. _

_I've got to think about strategies. So far, the only thing Haymitch has given us is "just stay alive." Well that's a good starting point. So how exactly do I stay alive? I would assume that it's a good idea to stay out of the bloodbath; it's just filled with Careers. Non-Career tributes usually end up better off when they just grab something and run. _

_What about Katniss and I? We'll run off together, won't we? She'll grab something, I'll grab something, and we'll take off. We'll find or make some shelter, gather up some food, and like we've always done, survive. _

_That's all we need to do. We could win. I know we could. Because Katniss and I have always been a team, and there's no stopping us now._

"You're done!" squeals my prep team. "Now it's time to let Portia deal with you." They all give big smiles and scurry away.

The doors open, and in walks what must be Portia. She is dark-skinned with light blonde hair of with an extreme amount of volume. She is pink makeup dabbed all over her face, but other than that she is dressed in a relatively normal-looking outfit. She smiles at me.

"I'm Portia," she says. "I'm going to be your stylist. She looks at me for some kind of response but instead I just nod.

I wonder what it would be like if everybody dressed like the people in the Capitol do. I try to picture Katniss with crazy hair, eyelashes that are inches long, or skin that was stained the color of the sun. If my Katniss had any of those things, she just wouldn't be my Katniss.

Suddenly, I am fearful of what they will do to her. For our chariot ride, will they give her crazy hear, eyelashes that are inches long, or skin that was stained the color of the sun? Will they make me look equally terrifying? That is not who we are. We are just two kids living in District 12.

"Gale," Portia begins, "about your opening ceremonies outfit. You're probably aware that each year, the tributes wear costumes that reflect the nature of the District." Right. District 12 – poor, dirty, and hungry. That's going to make a great costume. "In the past, there's been entirely too many tributes from your District wearing coal miner outfits. Cinna and I don't want to do that." She looks at me for any change in my emotions, but I have no idea where this is going.

"Gale, how comfortable are you around fire?" she asks suddenly. I wouldn't call myself uncomfortable around it, but I don't see how there's any way that fire makes you comfortable, especially in close proximity.

"I don't mind it," I tell her. "Why?" I ask. She smiles.

"You see, instead of focusing on coal mining, Cinna and I decided to focus on the coal. And in District 12, you take coal and burn it." She says. "With fire," she adds, as if that wasn't obvious enough already.

Before I know it, I am dressed in a strange black outfit with a cape that resembles fire. I don't see how this is going to do me any good. Everyone's going to look at Katniss and I and think we're the stupid District 12 tributes with the stupid costumes. Katniss and I can't afford to have that happen for us. We actually stand a chance in these Games.

"Are you ready?" Portia asks excitedly. Before I can answer her, she continues. "Don't be alarmed when we set you on fire," she warns. She looks at my face and laughs. "It's fake fire," she says like I was scared to death. She puts her hand on my shoulder. "There's nothing to worry about."

When I see Katniss dressed in the same outfit, I have to smile. She wears it a lot better than I do. I hardly have time to look at her before we're being taken down to the Remake Center and loaded into chariots. Portia and who I assume must be Cinna arrange our costumes, making sure everything is perfect.

"What do you think?" Katniss whispers. "About the fire?"

I shrug. "I guess we'll find out," I say. Then the opening music blasts through all of Panem, or at least that's how loud it seems.

The other tributes leave no impression on me. They are all just costumes, just as ours are. I don't understand how the people in the Capitol get so worked up about costumes.

At least, I didn't understand until Cinna lights us on fire.

Katniss is beautiful. The synthetic flames dance around her face, her body, igniting it. I want to stare at her forever like this, but Cinna is waving wildly at us and screaming something. He gestures and puts his hands together and points at us.

"He wants us to hold hands," I tell her. And as she, in her fiery outfit, grasps my hand, I realize that this is one moment I will never forget. Katniss and I smile and wave at the audience, and right at this moment, I haven't a care in the world.


	5. Five

_Black. This is what I see, all around, never changing. I squint my eyes, but I see nothing more. Then a star appears. It is bright, and it feels incredibly close. I reach out to touch it, but my hand grasps nothing._

_I feel a light tap on the shoulder. I spin around, but still I can see nothing. I reach out again, but I am grabbing at thin air. I try to let out a noise, but nothing comes out. And then I see it, coming at me._

_Fire. It is fire and it is raging. I try to run, but I can't move. I just stay still, close my eyes, and let the fire engulf me. _

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . **

We are in the Training Center, an exquisite building with a whole floor for every District. It is the last nice shelter we will ever be in before we die.

Except for one person. One of us gets to go home. I would give anything to make sure it is Katniss; she actually has a reason to go back home. She has Prim, and she has her mother. It's not as if I don't have a family, but when they came to say goodbye I could tell that they'd already accepted the fact that I was gone. Prim hadn't.

This was the difference. My family was ready to let me go, but Prim made Katniss promise to do everything in her power to come back to her. And Katniss will never break a promise like that.

Effie is trying to tell us how she is going to get us sponsors. But who are we to get sponsors? The only thing that makes us remotely attractive is what others do to us. They give us fiery costumes and the audience oohs and aahs. What's next? They spoon-feed us lines to say in our interviews and suddenly, everyone is in love? Good luck with that one, Effie.

"But then I said, and this was very clever of me, I said, 'Well if you put enough pressure on coal it turns to pearls!'" Effie says. She is beaming at us, and I wonder how much pressure I have to put on her head before it turns into something with a functional brain. It is people like her that our lives depend on now. This makes me feel really good about the Games.

When we arrive at our floor for District 12, I can't help but stare in awe. This building is filled with luxuries someone from the Seam could never find anywhere else. My own quarters are filled with everything electronic.

I sit on my bed, trying not to look around at my room. This is how they pamper us before we die. A part of me feels like I shouldn't just give into the Capitol and enjoy all these luxuries. I feel like I should be defiant in every way I can. After all, they are shipping me off to die. Another part of me feels like I should enjoy everything, because when I am in the arena I will want to give anything to be in a room as exquisite as this.

Before I have time to decide which way to act, Effie is calling me to dinner. I get up, because the food is good. And I get to see Katniss, which is even better.

Haymitch decides to show up as well, and he is remarkably clean looking, for his standards. Our stylists join us also. Great. There's nothing more that I enjoy than being with all these people who are preparing me to meet my death. Is there any better way to spend my last days?

I can think of one. Me and Katniss are in the woods. We have run away, we have left the District, and we are happy. We aren't afraid to smile, there is no one to bother us, and we are doing fine on our own. This is the way I want my life to end.

It's funny how much I wanted this to happen before, when I could dream freely, and everything was a possibility. I felt so caged up in District 12. It's funny how things have changed. I would give anything to go back to District 12.

One of the Capitol servants sets a cake on the table. It is flickering with little flames, and it reminds me of our costumes. I smile, thinking back on that memory. I was truly happy then.

"What makes it burn? Is it alcohol?" Katniss asks. Then she looks up at the servant girl. The girl . . .

I know her. Katniss and I were in the woods one day, hiding, and every bird except for one stopped singing. Then the girl was there, sprinting from something I couldn't see, and she was with a boy.

Instead of doing anything, Katniss and I just sat there. We're hunters, and we could see perfectly well that they were in some kind of life-or-death situation. But we didn't do a thing.

Then a hovercraft appeared, and the expression on the couple's faces haunted my dreams for weeks. Everything after that moved in a blur; a net scooped up the girl, and a spear was shot through the boy. He was dead, and Katniss and I both knew it. The girl screamed and then hovercraft was gone and the birds sang once more. But I knew that something horrible had just happened.

I never forgot it.

"That's the last thing I wa – oh! I know you!" she blurts out. Apparently, Katniss forgot it.

I shoot Katniss a harsh look. Hopefully, she gets the hint. This is not something that Katniss should be bringing up at this moment. All the adults at the table are glaring at Katniss. I wince. Luckily, she has seen my glance and understands.

"Don't be ridiculous, Katniss. How could you possibly know an Avox?" snaps Effie. "The very thought."

"What's an Avox?" Katniss asks, and I moan silently.

"Someone who committed a crime. They cut her tongue so she can't speak," says Haymitch. "She's probably a traitor of some sort. Not likely you'd know her." I see Katniss's eyes light up, and I realize that she has finally realized who this girl is. Haymitch sees it, too.

"And even if you did, you're not to speak to one of them unless it's to give an order. Of course, you don't really know her," Effie tries to convince herself. The table gets oddly quiet, and nobody speaks for a long time.

Finally, Cinna speaks. "Yes, the cake has spirits, but all the alcohol has burned off. I ordered it specially in honor of your fiery debut," he says. This seems to settle the tension at the table a bit as everyone takes a slice of the cake.

After that, we watch the replay of the opening ceremonies. Nobody pays any attention to any of the other tributes, but when Katniss and I are shown, everybody celebrates.

"Whose idea was the hand holding?" asks Haymitch. I have to wonder why he would ask such a question; Haymitch doesn't seem to be the type of person who would care about such a thing as hand-holding.

"Cinna's," says Portia.

"Just the perfect touch of rebellion," says Haymitch. "Very nice." I am immediately suspicious. What are these people planning? Is there some whole plot going on behind our backs? Are Katniss and I just two puppets in their plan to rebel against the Capitol?

"Rebellion?" I ask. "What is this?" Every adult in the room looks at me in shock. A few nervously look out of the corner of their eyes for help, for some kind of explanation.

"Don't worry," Cinna says calmly, "we're not starting a rebellion. We're on your side." He hesitates, but continues. "Simply, we feel that the Capitol Is wrong. They are doing wrong things to the wrong people in the wrong ways. We've just done something small; we've presented the District 12 tributes as friends. It's not against the rules, but it's never been done before. And although the Capitol will not think enough of this to act upon it, they'll notice it. And this is just the spark we need." He pauses for a moment. "With the right people, we might be able to make a difference," he says softly.

There's something about Cinna that I have to admire. Likewise, there's something about every adult at this table that I have to admire. They're all trying to do the right thing, and I see that no matter how many flaws they have, there is goodness in all of them.

After a pause, Haymitch speaks. "Tomorrow morning is the first training session. Meet me for breakfast and I'll tell you exactly how I want you to play it," he says. "Now go get some sleep while the grown-ups talk."

Katniss and leave the table, but instead of going to her own room, she follows me to mine. I let her in, and without a word we both sit on my bed.

"I remember her," Katniss tells me. I can tell that she's been wanting to talk about this.

"I do too," I say. "I've never forgotten," I add quietly.

"Do you think we could make a difference, Gale? Do you think someday, things will be different?" Katniss asks.

I answer her truthfully. "With people like the ones down there, I think things could change." She smiles. Something about her smile always makes me feel better.

"Goodnight Gale," she says. She gets up and walks quietly back to her own room. I lie back on my bed and stare at the ceiling.

Maybe things could change. Maybe someday, children can be born into a world where they do not have to worry about whether or not they will get a good meal. Maybe children can live long enough to see their grandchildren. Maybe someday, people like Katniss will not be afraid to love, and will have children of their own.

If there's a world like that out there, I am willing to do anything to find it.


	6. Six

When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I can clearly think is that Haymitch never told us what time he wanted us to meet for breakfast. Well, that would have been one helpful piece of information. Instead of going down to breakfast, I decide to climb in the shower, pressing some buttons and letting the shower do whatever it is that I told it to do.

When my I find my outfit laid out for me, I smile because it's clearly not typical Capital couture. It looks like something I would pull on in the morning, on a regular morning, when I have nothing to think about but going to the woods to meet Katniss.

My stomach grumbles, so I decide to head downstairs to breakfast no matter who's there or not. I'm almost there when Haymitch stops me. "Gale," he says, "I need to talk to you." I give a nervous glance around to make sure nobody's watching, and he pulls me into an empty room.

"Gale, you and Katniss are the first promising tributes District 12 has seen in a long time. And whatever happens, we want one of you to win. We're going to try our hardest to make sure that happens, but the thing is, both of you can't win." Haymitch takes a swig from his bottle of liquor. "There's nobody here Gale, nobody but you and me, and I swear I won't tell anybody. Just tell me, who do you want us to save?"

My mind stops. Of course I want it to be Katniss. Of course I want Katniss to win. But telling him that is practically a guarantee for my own death. It's funny how death has never felt so real until I'm practically about to tell him that I want to die.

Do I? Do I want to die? I mean, there's one thing to living with your heart broken, but it's another thing not to live at all. There's one thing to living without ever seeing Katniss again, but it's another thing to not to see anything at all again.

"Save her," I tell him weakly. Seeing my pain, he tries to reassure me with a small smile, but he knows there's nothing he can do. I'm going to die for her.

"I can't guarantee that I will save her," Haymitch says, "and I'm not guaranteeing that you'll die. You could very well both end up dead. But I'm just saying that if we can only send one gift from a sponsor, it goes to her, situations like that. Then again, you guys will probably be together most of the time, won't you?" He nudges me playfully. "Let's go to breakfast."

And I feel so bad. There are good people that realize the cruelties of this world and that try their best to help. It can't be easy for Haymitch to sit down and tell me that he will let me die to save Katniss, but he does it.

We walk into the dining room, and I forgot everything that just happened and smile when I see Katniss sitting there, all alone, stuffing her face with rolls. She is wearing the exact same outfit as I am.

After I finish eating and after Haymitch is (finally) done eating as well, he leans his elbows on the table. "So, let's get down to business. Training. First off, if you like, I'll coach you separately. Decide now."

"Why would you coach us separately?" Katniss asks.

"Say if you had a secret skill you might not want the other to know about," says Haymitch.

Katniss and I smile. "We've been hunting together our whole lives, Haymitch," I say. "I'm pretty sure we know everything there is to know about each other."

"I already know you guys are handy with knives. Can you do anything else?" Haymitch asks.

"We can hunt," Katniss says, "with a bow and arrow."

"And you're good?" asks Haymitch. Katniss and I exchange glances.

"We're a great team," I answer. "Katniss is better with a bow and arrow, and I'm good with traps and snares. Together, we can hunt anything," I say.

"In that case," Haymitch says, "When you're in training, skip the things that you already know. Try everything out, all the weapons because you never know what will be available in the arena. Also try out the survival skill stations as those will be most practical to you in the arena. But when you're in your private sessions with the Gamemakers, it's your time to show off. Really show them what makes _you _good. Are we clear?"

Katniss and I nod. "One more thing," Haymitch says. "In public, I want you by each other's side every minute. But I don't expect that to be much of a problem, sweethearts." He winks. "Now get out. Meet Effie at the elevator at ten for training."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I soon realize that this is serious stuff.

Before, I had only seen the other tributes on the television screen, or at the opening ceremonies but from a distance. Now, I am so close to them that I feel the urge to take a step back. These are the people that will be trying to kill Katniss. Suddenly, I hate them all.

"Where do we start?" I ask Katniss.

"Suppose we tie some knots," she says.

"That's a good idea," I reply. We head to the knot-tying station and, to my relief, there is nobody there. The Careers have all head off to the deadly-looking weapons, which they seem to be already too familiar with.

When the trainer realizes that I already have an excellent understanding of snares, he shows Katniss and I a trap that will leave an enemy dangling by a leg from a tree. While Katniss and I work on that, I can't help glancing over at the Careers. The boy from District 2 pierce's a dummy's heart with a spear from fifteen yards away, and everything changes. The dummy changes before my eyes, growing long brown hair and morphing. Before I know it, it is Katniss. He just killed her. When he heads away with his nose up in the air, I am possessed by a force I know not of.

I head over to the dummy and yank out the spear, and having never thrown a spear in my life, stand twenty yards away from the dummy, which I now picture to have the District 2 boy's face on it. I get a feel for the weapon and, consumed by anger, send the spear flying right through the dummy's heart.

Katniss gives me a look of shock and disbelief. The other tributes shoot me looks of fear. But the look that the District 2 boy gives me can only mean one thing: I'll get you back for that when it counts. In the arena.

I walk back to the knot-tying station with Katniss and act as if nothing had just happened. Completely seeing through this, Katniss raises and eyebrow at me. I just shrug; I'll tell her later. Not here, though, not now.

And so for the next three days, Katniss and I go through the stations, learning skills we didn't know before and trying to absorb as much knowledge as we can before we go into the arena. It's really hard to believe that all too soon, we will actually be there. It still doesn't sink in.

I've seen the Gamemakers watching the tributes, and sometimes I've seen them watching Katniss and I. _Look at her, _I want to tell them,_ don't you see? You've got to let her live. _When we eat, and I see the Gamemakers talking to the trainers, I want to tell them, _Look at her. Save her. _

Katniss and I are the only two tributes that sit together when we eat, except for the Careers. I see Katniss smile because she sees the little District 11 girl sitting about two seats away from the District 11 boy, as if to say _I want to sit by you, but I don't want to bother you. _She's too young for this. And as sad as it may be, she will most likely die in the bloodbath. I wonder if the boy will care.

"So Gale," Katniss says as we are eating the first day, "I didn't know you could throw a spear."

I hesitate before responding. Is she joking? Is she angry? "I thought it was you," I reply simply.

"What?" she asks, clearly confused.

"When I saw him throw that spear, I looked at the dummy and all I could think was what if that were you. And I was so upset, I just wanted to show him he can't do that." This doesn't seem to please Katniss.

"Gale, you're the first person he's going to kill," she says.

But I smile. "I'll make sure that's not true," I say, and we head off to training.

On the second day, as Katniss and I visit the knife-throwing station, I look out of the corner of my eye and smile. The little girl from District 11 is standing back a bit, watching every single thing Katniss and I do. It reminds me of the cruel fact that she is only twelve years old.

"Katniss," I whisper, and nudge her on the shoulder, "I think her name's Rue." She turns and her eyes widen as she sees the little girl from District 11 standing there, watching us. I can see Katniss's heart melt at the dark skin and eyes, and something about the girl gives off a birdlike impression. I know what Katniss is thinking. Rue is a type of flower, just as a primrose is. And I know that when Katniss looks at Rue she does not see the dark skinned girl from District 11, but the little blonde-haired sister from back home.

The rest of the day, I can see Katniss constantly looking back at Rue. I want to take the girl away, and get Katniss's mind focused on more important issues. But I know that wouldn't make a difference so I just leave it go.

But I can't help thinking that if Katniss is so occupied with this little girl now that isn't even Prim, what is Katniss going to be like in the arena when she is trying to stay alive for Prim? But I'm also sure that Katniss will be strong.

She always is, when she needs to be. Especially when it comes to our private sessions when the Gamemakers.

On our third day of training, we are sent to these private sessions. I had been thinking in the back of my head the whole time during training about what I would do for this session, but I hadn't quite come up with anything. I had kind of figure that I would deal with that when I got there.

And now I'm here, ready to go in. And I still have no clue what I'm going to do.

When they call my name, I know that something bad is about to happen. I give Katniss a quick smile and enter the room. I glance up at the Gamemakers. They have been through a lot today, and they don't appear to be paying attention to me. The ones that are watching me have a hazy expression in their eyes. They are tired. Enough with these tributes all ready, I don't care who dies. I just want to go home.

Suddenly, I am furious. I pick up a spear, and from a distance that is so far away from the nearest dummy I don't even know what it is, hurl the spear right at the dummy's face. Now the Gamemakers are watching in disbelief, though the force of that throw took the energy right out of me.

The rest of the session is a blur. I throw a knife. I shoot an arrow. I set up a quick snare, just to show them that I am a well-rounded hunter. Everything's blurring, and the world is set slightly in motion.

When they dismiss me, I stumble out. Quickly, I try to assess myself.

How did it go? I really made an impression with that first spear, and the judges that were watching knew it. The rest of the session was average; I didn't do anything wrong, but it surely wasn't spectacular. But will this be enough? Will this be enough to get me sponsors? Will this be enough to keep Katniss and I alive in the arena?

My stomach churns in anger. What was I doing? That might have been the biggest opportunity I had to keep myself alive, and I just blew it. I threw one spear, and went through the rest without even thinking about it. How could I have done that? I was supposed to think everything through, make every moment spectacular. I'm supposed to be the protector.

I thought I was strong. I thought I could do anything I wanted in these Games, because for some reason, I believed I had the power to. I thought I had the knowledge, the experience, and the desire to win.

I'm not sure what I have anymore.


	7. Seven

I soon forget about my own situation as I see Katniss storm out of the Training Center. Something she has done has really upset her, and my heart sinks as I realize that maybe she messed up in her private session. I thought I did poorly, but clearly I'm not as upset as Katniss is right now. I decide that I need to talk to her.

This doesn't prove to be as easy as I thought, though, because Katniss storms to her room. I rush up to her room and start pounding on her door. "Katniss," I say, "open up."

She doesn't say anything, so I keep pounding on the door. "Katniss, it's just me, Gale. You know, the person you used to be able to talk about anything to." This seems to get to her, because right after I say that the door flies open.

There are dried tears on her face, and my heart melts. I grab her face in my hands. "Katniss," I say softly, "what happened?" Another tear rolls down her face. We walk over to her bed and sit down. I take her hand.

"Katniss, listen. Whatever happened, it's nothing to worry about. We're still here, and we still have time to live freely before the Games. We have time, and I don't want to spend it like this. I want to be happy, Katniss." She lifts up the corners of her mouth in a small smile.

"I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers," she says quietly. I can't help but laugh. This is so typical of Katniss. "They weren't paying attention, and I just lost it. I can't afford to have them not pay attention." I squeeze her hand to reassure her.

"Catnip, I think that's the most amazing thing I think I've heard in a while."

She smiles. "Really?" she asks, and I before I know what I'm doing I kiss her lightly on the forehead. I see her eyes widen in surprise, and a soft crimson blush appears on her cheeks.

"Let's go down to dinner," I tell her, and I offer my hand. She looks at it hesitantly. She's not really the romantic type, as she's never been in a relationship before. Everybody in District 12 knew it. I'd never had a problem with it, either. Until that one day . . .

It was right after New Year's. Katniss and I were in the Hob, eating some slop of Greasy Sae's. Until then, she had simply been my hunting partner. We depended on each other for food for our families, but we were nothing more. We hardly talked, and when we did, it was strictly business.

But that day was different. Darius, the Peacekeeper, was tickling Katniss's cheek with the end of her braid. I had never seen such a thing in my life. At school, the guys had talked about her, but never had I seen anyone make a move. Katniss and Darius were laughing, and then I felt it. It was the same kind of thing that I felt when someone with only one name entered in the ball was worried about the reaping, the same feeling I felt when someone who got to eat good meals every day was complaining about being hungry.

Then before I knew it, Darius was teasing Katniss about trading a rabbit for one of his kisses. Never having been in such a situation, a blood rushed to Katniss's cheeks and she looked away shyly. I pictured the two of them kissing, and then suddenly, I realized that I loved her. I wanted her for myself, and from then on, I had become her protector, a role that had never seemed so important until right now.

Katniss decides to take my hand, and we walk down to dinner.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As soon as we sit down, Haymitch takes one look at Katniss and I and decides to get straight to the point. "I was under the impression that you showed some potential, sweethearts. Just how bad were you today?"

Giving Katniss a chance to think about her response, I decide to answer first. "I started out okay. I threw a spear from a pretty far away. But then after that, I lost focus. I just went through the motions; nothing seemed impressive."

Haymitch looks disappointed. "Your life's on the line! What more can we possibly do to get you to focus, put a knife up to your throat?" he asks, waving his knife in the air. I wince. "If this is what you're like, sweetheart, you won't take anything seriously until it's too late." He sits down his silverware. He looks at Katniss. "And you, sweetheart?"

"I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers," she replies. Everything in the room stops, and it becomes deathly quiet and still. Nobody moves.

"You what?" replies Effie, not even attempting to mask the horror in her voice.

"I shot an arrow at them. Not exactly at them. In their direction. They were ignoring me and I just . . . I just lost my head, so I shot an apple out of their stupid roast pig's mouth!" she says defiantly.

"And what did they say?" Cinna asks carefully.

"Nothing. Or I don't know. I walked out after that," she says.

"Without being dismissed?" gasps Effie.

"I dismissed myself," she says quietly. Even I know that's against the rules. But at this moment, I am so proud of my Katniss. She is everything that I'd want her to be; she openly defied the Capitol and these Hunger Games, and I couldn't be more proud. Even I never thought to do something like she did.

"Well, that's that," Haymitch says simply.

"What's the worst that could happen?" I ask. "I mean, is it really that big of a deal?"

"Don't think so," Haymitch says. "They can't do much about it because they'd have to reveal what happened in the Training Center for it to have any worthwhile effect on the population. People would need to know what you did. Most likely they'll make your life hell in the arena."

This is exactly what we don't need. My emotions are conflicting now: how proud I am of Katniss and how upset I am that the Capitol might be planning clever, brutal ways to kill Katniss at this very minute.

So I am even more confused when we sit down to watch the scores and Katniss scores an eleven, and I score a nine. I've scored in the range of the Careers, and Katniss the highest of any tribute.

"Guess they liked your temper," Haymitch tells her. But I know this can't be a good thing. Katniss and I are obviously not Career tributes, but we've scored well enough to be Career tributes. This probably means that, if this hadn't been true already, District Twelve will be the Careers' first target. These Games seem to keep becoming more and more difficult.

When everyone leaves the room, I don't have the energy to get up and leave. Suddenly, I feel drained. I can't stop thinking about Katniss, and the Games, and how both of us will probably die.

Did I do the right thing? It's a question I've thought about many times before, but it keeps coming back to my thoughts. The only reason I volunteered was to protect Katniss. I felt I could do that job better than anybody. Peeta Mellark probably had no idea who Katniss was. But I can't stop feeling as though I've hurt her, deep inside. For one thing, I've guaranteed that either she has to live with my death, or I have to live with her death. As long as I've known her, I know that this is not a situation that Katniss Everdeen wants to be in.

I also know that Katniss cares about her family more than anything. I've learned to accept the fact that she cares about her family more than she does about me. So what did she think when I volunteered? She had probably been depending on me to take care of her family, but who's going to do it now?

My blood runs cold as I think about Katniss's family now. There's nobody to hunt for them, nobody to provide them with the food that keeps them alive every day. How will they survive? What have I done?

Suddenly I know that I have made the wrong choice. I didn't think this through. I have made every wrong decision I could have made, and although she seems fine on the outside, I know that on the inside Katniss is broken. She's lost everything.

I hate myself. I hate myself for doing this to her. I hate myself with a passion I've never felt before. With all this energy, I manage to drag myself off the couch. I find the empty room that Haymitch dragged me in earlier. I turn off the lights and lock myself inside. It is cold and dark, just like I am. This is where I deserve to be. And I don't want to come out.


	8. Eight

_When I look in her eyes, I know that this is not the girl I used to know. Her skin is pale and so thin that I feel like if I touched it and rubbed it between my fingers it would crumble. Her eyes are wide but empty; colorless. Her thin, scraggly blonde hair is tangled down her back._

"_Why did you do this to me, Gale?" she asks. "You know that my mother can't take care of me, and when Katniss volunteered for me, you were the only thing I had left. But you didn't think about me, did you?" _

_I want to grab her, hold her, and let her eat every delicious, rich Capitol food that I have tried. I want to win these Games for her, so that she will never go hungry again. _

_I reach out to touch her, to hug her, but as soon as I embrace her she crumbles to bits in my arms. "Prim," I moan. But she is gone._

My eyes fly open, and I'm breathing heavily. I look around, but all I see is blackness. I am shivering, and I am sore all over. It takes me awhile to realize where I am.

I wonder what time it is. Is everyone else still in bed? Has breakfast started? Have the day's activities already begun?

As I am more sane now than I was when I entered this room, I decide that staying in here is going to do me no good in the long run. So I open the door and see that it is still dark. I'm not surprised; I don't know how long I could have slept comfortably on the floor of that empty room.

I decide to go back up to bed. When I open the door, I almost call out in surprise when I see someone laying on my bed. I walk up to it, and my expression relaxes. It's Katniss. She looks so peaceful when she sleeps, as if nothing in the world could bother her, and I don't want to disrupt her. I do wonder why she is here.

I change into boxers and climb into bed. The movement must have woken Katniss from her slumber, because her eyes flutter open and then search around the room. When her eyes rest on me, she smiles and sits up. "Hey Gale," she says. She lays her head back down on a pillow.

"What are you doing here, Catnip?" I ask. We are so peaceful here that I almost forgot that earlier tonight I had locked myself in a dark closet out of frustration.

"I felt like we should talk. About the Games," she says. "Haymitch doesn't seem to be doing a real good job," she mumbles sleepily. I smile. Maybe he hasn't told you a lot about the Games, but he's told me as much as I need to know.

"What do you want to talk about?" I ask.

"Strategy. I haven't got a clue where to start," she admits. I brush a piece of her hair behind her ear.

"Picture yourself right before the cannon fires. You're in a circle of tributes, all facing the Cornucopia. There are weapons there; hopefully there's a bow and arrow, but if not, you know that you can fashion one yourself. What do you do when the cannon fires?"

"I don't know," she says, "that's the problem. How am I supposed to know what the arena is like? What if it's just an open plain? What if there's water everywhere? What if all the Careers blow up in the first thirty seconds?" I smile. This is so typical of Katniss.

"Tell you what," I say, my mood much more cheerful than it probably should be. I think my lack of sleep is starting to affect my behavior, at this point. "Let's say the arena is a giant pot of stew." She giggles, something I'm not sure I've ever heard my Katniss do before, and punches me playfully.

"Seriously Gale," she says, "there wouldn't be enough starvation for the Capitol's liking."

"That's very true," I say. "I guess we've ruled out that option then." She laughs again. "But seriously, Katniss. You need food, water, and weapons. The food and water you should be able to hunt and find, and the weapons you can pick up at the Cornucopia. Just don't get killed in the bloodbath," I advise. "After that, you just need to find somewhere to be. It's got to be somewhere strategic, somewhere where nobody can see you, but you can see everybody." I stop. "Somewhere where you can kill everybody but nobody can kill you," I whisper.

"Like a tree," Katniss says.

"Exactly," I say. "Now that wasn't that hard, was it, Catnip?" She nods her head and closes her eyes.

"Good night, Gale," she says.

"Good night Catnip," I whisper back, and having her here with me makes me realize more than ever before to what lengths I am willing to go to protect her.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

When I wake up, I'm surprised to see that Katniss is already awake. She's smiling, and she looks as if she's thinking about something. She's so adorable when she does that, I can't help but smile.

"You'd better get out of here," I tell her, "before Haymitch comes in." She smiles and climbs out of the bed.

"I'll see you at breakfast," she says, and she's gone.

I decide to take a shower, which ends up fading slowly from a cold to warm temperature and then back again, because I must have pressed a button that told it to do that. After that, I get change into some clothes and head down to breakfast.

Katniss isn't here yet, but Haymitch and Effie are so I grab some food (which turns out to be stew, and I can't stop thinking about the arena Katniss and I thought of last night). Haymitch speaks as soon as I get to the table.

"Gale, interviews are different than normal training. I can understand where you'd like to be coached separately, seeing as you and Katniss will probably have different approaches to your interviews," he says. I have to think about that. I can see where Katniss and I may be more productive being coached separately, but at the same time I feel like I shouldn't leave Katniss's side.

"I want to be coached together," I say firmly.

"Have it your way, sweetheart," Haymitch replies. I have just started eating my food when Katniss appears at the table with her own food. She starts eating, and then decides to jump right into things.

"So, what's going on? You're coaching us on interviews today, right?"

"That's right," says Haymitch, "but we've got a lot of work to do. Although your opening ceremonies performance was dazzling, if you really want sponsors, you'll need to do well with your interviews. You need to be unique and memorable if you plan on getting any sponsors."

Katniss and I soon discover that this won't be as easy as it may seem. We both have trouble with Effie, who dresses us in fancy outfits and instructs us to act presentably. We have sufficient enough manners for someone living in the Seam, but beyond that, we're what you'd expect from two poor kids from District 12. Effie is particularly hard on Katniss, coaching her on the proper way to walk in high heels and lift up her dress when she walks. It seems to be a bit much to me, but what do I know?

Things don't go better with Haymitch. It takes hours of questions, prompts, and lots of liquor for him to decide that Katniss and I simply aren't remarkable. Our only charm comes through with the work of our stylists, but by ourselves we are just unappealing. Of course, I don't look at Katniss that way at all, but I let Haymitch say what he wants.

"I don't know what happened to those cheery, wavy tributes on the chariot, but wherever they went, you should consider bringing them back. The sponsors will forget about you two in no time, sweethearts," he says grimly and leaves.

Haymitch seems genuinely disappointed, and it's not hard to see why. Katniss and I are the first promising tribute's he's probably ever had, and as a mentor it's his job to get us to do well. When he discovers our true, apparently unappealing personalities, he can't help but wonder how we'll end up in the arena. And our sponsors can play a large role in that.

Suddenly, I feel bad for Haymitch. Of course it's bad to go into an arena to fight to the death with the girl you love, but it must be equally hard for Haymitch. Every year, he meets new tributes, gets attached to them (or about as attached as he can get with all that liquor of his), and then watches them get slaughtered on live television, year after year after year.

So who _do_ the Hunger Games benefit? Why, after all these years, is this still an effective form of punishment? Why, when we have nothing to do with the Dark Days, does the Capitol continue to put up with this every year? What have I done to deserve this? What has Haymitch done to deserve this? What has Cinna done to deserve this?

And I realize why they are taking smell steps toward rebellion against the Capitol: because anything is better than this.


	9. Nine

"There," Portia says, as she does a last minute check of my outfit. "You look beautiful." I'm wearing a black suite with flame accents, and I can't help but realize that this is probably the nicest I've ever looked. It's funny, because this is probably the worst I've ever felt.

This whole trip has been intense so far. I've been mostly really angry at the Capitol and at my current situation. It's a frustrating feeling, really. I've built up all this anger inside of me, so much that I feel like I'm about to burst. But I've just no way to let it out. Everything that I do now is monitored, all thanks to the Capitol. I'm a slave, a helpless puppet of the Capitol's, and there's nothing I can do about it. I don't feel human, and it upsets me more than anything.

"What do you think of it?" Portia asks. I want to tell her that I love it. I want to tell her that it's really great, and that I'm sure Katniss and I will be just as stunning as we were the night of the opening ceremonies. But she is a part of the Capitol, and I can't do that.

"It works," I say flatly, and she doesn't even try to hide the hurt from registering on her face. Tears fill her eyes. I know how hard she has worked on this, and how badly she wants me to like it. I want to feel bad. But she is a part of the Capitol, and I can't do that.

We meet up with the rest of the District 12 crowd at the elevator, and I stop dead in my tracks. Katniss, in her jeweled dress, looks more beautiful than I have ever seen her before in my life. Her features are all sharp and defined, and I want to pick her up and twirl her around. But I know this is all a disguise; that isn't Katniss. That is the Capitol's interpretation of her. And suddenly, I hate it.

Cinna is giving Katniss a prep talk, and based on my current status with Portia, I don't think she is going to give me one. But she does.

"Gale," she says hesitantly, "be confident. Feel good in your outfit. And do well in your interview." She looks into my eyes, and then turns away before I can say anything to her.

All the tributes are being lined up onstage so that we can sit in our big arc. I'll be very last, so I get to listen to what everyone else has to say before I go. I wish I could just get it out of the way so that I could focus. Everyone in Panem will be watching.

Caesar Flickerman appears, with his powder blue hair, lips, and eyelids. And before I know it, the other tributes are already going through their interviews. None of them are unique; every angle that they take I've seen before. There are the ruthless ones, the elusive ones, and the quiet ones. When they reach District 11 I figure I should start paying attention.

Rue, the little girl whom I know Katniss is paying attention to now, takes the stage. She looks just like a little bird, with wings and everything. She is complimented on her impressive training score, a seven, and reveals her secrets for the arena. "I'm very hard to catch. And if they can't catch me, they can't kill me. So don't count me out." Somehow, I have no trouble believing this.

The boy from District 11, whose name is apparently Thresh, has dark skin like Rue. For someone as monstrous as him, his method of simply answering "yes" or "no" to every question seems to work. The one thing I've noticed about him is that he is extremely antisocial; he hasn't talked to anyone, even when asked to join the Career group, and he certainly isn't talking now.

And then it is Katniss's turn, and she is walking onstage. She looks nervous, and I feel bad. I don't take this stuff nearly as seriously as she does.

"So, Katniss, the Capitol must be quite a change from District Twelve. What's impressed you most since you arrived here?" asks Caesar.

"The lamb stew," she chokes out. I stare ahead in shock. Is that what she said? The lamb stew? I suppose it is a clever answer, and quite demeaning to the Capitol. The best that the Capitol has to offer is simply the lamb stew. I wonder if she tried to say it that way.

"The one with the dried plums?" asks Caesar. "Oh, I eat it by the bucketful. It doesn't show, does it?" The Capitol people squeal in delight, because apparently what he said was extremely funny, I suppose.

"Now, Katniss, when you came out in the opening ceremonies, my heart actually stopped. What did you think of that costume?"

"You mean after I got over my fear of being burned alive?" she asks. The audience laughs wildly, but my expression is blank. What kind of answer was that? That's not my Katniss up there. She wouldn't say something like that. This is the Captiol Katniss, and seeing that what they've done has gotten to her mind, I can't take it. I literally tremble in frustration.

"Yes. Start then," says Caesar.

"I thought Cinna was brilliant and it was the most gorgeous costume I'd ever seen and I couldn't believe I was wearing it. I can't believe I'm wearing this, either. I mean, look at it!" Then she is spinning, and when Caesar tells her to continue, she keeps spinning, spinning, and I know that is not Katniss Everdeen standing up there. She stops and grabs Caesar's arm, and she is giggling. The crowd is laughing, laughing, and I'm about to vomit.

"So, how about that training score. E-le-ven. Give us a hint what happened in there."

She bites her lip. "Um . . . all I can say, is I think it was a first." The Gamemakers are laughing in agreement.

"You're killing us. Details. Details," Caesar says.

"I'm not supposed to talk about it, right?" Katniss asks the balcony.

"She's not!" one of them says.

"Thank you," Katniss replies, and then she giggles quietly. "Sorry. My lips are sealed." I had never heard my Katniss use such an expression in her life. Of course, she always told me everything.

"Let's go back then, to the moment they called your sister's name at the reaping. And you volunteered. Can you tell us about her?"

"Her name's Prim," Katniss says hesitantly. This is apparently what it took to bring Katniss back to her senses. This is what it took to make her realize how silly she was acting. "She's just twelve. And I love her more than anything." The City Circle is dead silent.

"What did she say to you? After the reaping?" Caesar asks.

"She asked me to try really hard to win," Katniss says.

"And what did you say?"

Katniss's voice is deep and tense. She is focused now, and her whole world must have shifted back into reality since her giggly, twirly episode. That was not Katniss; this is. "I swore I would."

The buzzer goes off as Caesar squeezes Katniss. "I bet you did. Sorry, we're out of time. Best of luck, Katniss Everdeen, tribute from District Twelve." The applause is loud and long, and I see Cinna give Katniss a thumbs up. This means that I am next.

And then they are calling my name, and it takes all the willpower I have to walk up to Caesar Flickerman and shake his hand. I do not smile. I am not amiable in the least bit. I'm not about to pretend that this is some fancy ceremony.

"Gale Hawthorne, the other tribute on fire," Caesar greets me. "Tell me, what is it like back in District Twelve?"

It's heaven compared to being here. "It's home," I say, "and that's better than anything else. At home, I know where I stand, and I have everything I need right with me." Unlike here, where I am about to get shipped off to die.

"How touching," says Caesar. "Do you have a district token from back home?" Seeing my expression he adds, "You know, something that will take to the arena with you to keep and protect?"

"Yeah," I answer, "Katniss." And the pathetic Capitol audience squeals in delight. It's true; I volunteered so that I can protect her, and I plan to never leave her side. Caesar has to wait for the audience to calm down.

"She's the reason that you volunteered, isn't she?" Caesar asks softly, as though the question is directed only to me, even though all of Panem is watching.

"Yes," I answer, "to protect her." Caesar smiles and squeezes my hand, as if that is supposed to make me feel better. The Capitol is lovestruck, and it's quite pathetic. Caesar watches me sympathetically.

"And when these Games are over, in the future, what do you want people to remember about you, Gale Hawthorne?" Caesar asks. It's a valid question. Suddenly, I am thinking of Cinna, and Haymitch, and Effie and how we are all united in our hatred for the Capitol. I think of what Cinna said: _With the right people, we might be able to make a difference_.

My answer is firm and confident, the first real sign of emotion I've shown so far. "I want people to know that no matter what happens, you're not me. I want people to realize that no matter how much life sucks in your District, you and the only person you really care about aren't being shipped off to the arena where both of you will probably end up dead. I want people to realize that my life could've been more than this." I think of Cinna, painfully doing all his work even though the Capitol's motives are so wrong. I think of Haymitch watching his tributes die every year. I think of Effie who tries to keep such a positive attitude all the time.

"I want people to know that someday, your children might not have to go through what I'm going through," I say softly, and the buzzer rings.


	10. Ten

I can see the huge television screens black out; somebody has pulled the plug. Everyone looks confused. Capitol authorities and the Gamemakers look angry, and I assume they were the ones that canceled the recording of the interview. The other tributes have mixed emotions. Some are deciding what to think of me, others look at me in admiration, a couple tributes look at my in pity, but most tributes just looked stunned. The Capitol citizens don't know whether to be touched or outraged.

Really, what I did didn't seem that bad to me. But in Panem, anything that has just the slightest hint of rebellion causes chaos. Like right now. People are running, screaming, and turning their heads rapidly to try to figure out what is going on. The noise in the City Circle is deafening.

I feel Haymitch's arms grab mine and drag me offstage. I try to stand up, but he is too powerful, and he is dragging me all the way back to the Training Center. My eyes search wildly for Katniss, but she is nowhere to be found among the blur of people. It is when we get into the elevator to ride up to the twelfth floor that Haymitch finally lets go.

We ride up the elevator in silence, and when the door opens, he brutally shoves me out. I look around, but there is no one in sight. Haymitch is dragging me again, this time to the same empty room that I have come to know so well. Unlike me, he flips on the light, but he does lock the door. Haymitch pins me against the wall.

"Listen sweetheart," he says, "you're in trouble. That stunt you pulled out there is going to have the Capitol outraged."

"What does it matter?" I choke out. "They were already going to kill me."

Haymitch looks me in the eyes. "At this point," he says, "you can guarantee that you're not going home. The Gamemakers are going to do everything in their power to make sure you die. And it's not going to be pretty. I can guarantee that the vast majority of citizens in the districts are already rooting for you, and the Capitol realizes this. They'll save you until the end, give the audience some hope, and then finish you off." He pauses, waiting for me to let that all sink in.

Well, this is it. I've done it. My hatred for the Capitol has compromised everything else that I've ever lived for. In a way, I've always been like this. I've always been willing to fight, always dreaming about taking down the Capitol. But nothing like this This is not how it was supposed to happen.

"Gale," Haymitch says hesitantly, "you're not safe." He shifts his gaze downward. "And if you're not safe, sweetheart, neither is anyone that you're with. Do you understand that?"

For a second, I don't. But then it hits me. Katniss. Katniss will not be safe around me. I am the Capitol's primary target, and if they're out to get me, they'll get her too. I can't be her protector. Suddenly, everything that I volunteered for has been lost, at my own hands.

"I told them how I felt about her," I mumble. This is too much. "I told them how I felt about her. Will they . . . will they . . .?" I can't get out the words, but I see the understanding in Haymitch's eyes. They will kill her. Because she is important to me, they will kill her. The Gamemakers will kill her and I both, all because of my actions, and there is nothing I can do about it.

"I'm sorry," Haymitch says quietly, and I can tell that he is genuine. This gets to me; he has no reason to be sorry. I am the one that should be apologizing.

"No, I'm sorry," I tell him. "I know how it must feel, watching the tributes you mentored get slaughtered year after year." I see the pain in Haymitch's eyes, and I know that I am right. "I know how you must have thought this year was going to be different," I tell him. He looks like he wants to argue with that, but he knows he can't. "I thought it was going to be different," I add quietly.

"But it _was _different," Haymitch tells me. "Never before have I had tributes like you. Never before have I had tributes that understand, tributes that put their life on the line to make a difference." And then Haymitch says the line, the line that drove me to saying everything that I did in that interview: "With the right people, we might be able to make a difference." And suddenly, I don't regret anything that I did.

I am Gale Hawthorne. I am a tribute from District Twelve for the seventy-fourth Hunger Games. I am probably going to be brutally killed in the arena at the Capitol's hands. And I want people to remember that I made a difference.

"Haymitch," I say, "did I do the right thing?" He puts his hand on my shoulder and nods his head.

"Gale, there's consequences to every action. Sometimes people die, sometimes dreams are shattered, and sometimes you lose your way. But I think," Haymitch says, as he takes a swig of a small container of liquor that he had in his pocket, "that you did the right thing. In the long run, people will remember you. And I really think you've made a difference." We both smile feebly and weakly at each other.

"I'm proud of you," Haymitch says quietly. "I couldn't have asked for a better tribute. And believe me, if there was anything I could do, I would make sure you never got into that arena. But I'm afraid I'm helpless."

"These Games aren't going to be forgotten any time soon," I mutter. And maybe, by some miracle, these Games will be the last. Maybe, by some miracle, a Quarter Quell will be avoided next year. Maybe, by some miracle, the Capitol will be overthrown.

"Just remember who your enemies are," says Haymitch, "and I think you'll do us proud in the arena."

Suddenly, from outside our closet, the door flies open with a bang. People are stumbling into the room, and the door closes forcefully. There are two loud thuds as two heavy objects hit the floor. Haymitch fumbles with the doorknob, but finally gets it open.

I almost faint at the sight in front of me. Katniss and Cinna are on the floor, collapsed. Katniss is in Cinna's arms and both are unconscious, their eyes closed and their mouths open. A pool of blood is flowing from underneath them.

Haymitch's eyes are also glued ahead at the scene. For a second, we don't know what to do. Then we both rush over to them, inspecting the damage.

Both are out cold, but they are alive. There is a large gash in Cinna's back, which turns out to be the source of the blood. Katniss's dress is destroyed, but she doesn't appear to be hurt. Then we notice their heads. Both have huge lumps on their heads, obviously from some kind of harsh blow to the head. This is the reason they are unconscious, and I can't believe it.

Who did this? Was this my fault? And I can't help but wonder one thing: What exactly have I done?


	11. Eleven

I pace around my room nervously. Katniss and Cinna have been sent somewhere for medical treatment, and though I've been assured that the injuries are not severe, I can't help but worry. I'm still waiting anxiously to know what exactly happened.

Effie is banging on my door. "Time for dinner, Gale," she calls, fighting to keep her voice cheerful. When I get downstairs, it's only Haymitch, Effie, and Portia sitting at the table. The group sees the disappointment in my eyes.

"They're recovering quite nicely," Haymitch says. "Katniss should be at breakfast tomorrow." I manage a smile, which makes everyone look a bit happier. We eat soundlessly for awhile. Finally, I break the silence.

"What happened?" I choke out. No one says anything, but Haymitch, Effie, and Portia look at me sympathetically.

"Things got crazy," Haymitch says finally. "President Snow ordered the Peacekeepers to go crazy. Anyone deemed to be involved or somewhat involved in the madness had to deal with the Peacekeepers. We got out just in time."

"But why?" I ask. "It doesn't make sense!"

"You hit a sore spot in the Capitol," Portia answers. "There's not much that can be done now." We eat the rest of our meal in silence, and then I head up to bed.

After stripping off my clothes, I collapse into the bed and pull the covers around me. _I'm sorry, Katniss_, I think. What have I done?

_She smiles at me, even though there is no reason to be smiling. Her hair is sweaty, tangled, and covering her face. There is dried blood on her face as well, but still, she smiles._

"_Hey Gale," she says. She has thinned considerably, and she walks towards me. She opens her arms for a hug and I hold her tightly. _

"_I'm so sorry," I whisper in her ear. _

_I try to let out a noise, but nothing comes out. And then I see it, coming at me._

_Fire. It is fire and it is raging. I try to run, but I can't move. I just stay still, close my eyes, and let the fire engulf me. _

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I open my eyes. It is very dark out, and I wonder why I've awoken in the middle of the night. Then, I feel warmth beside me, and I see a figure there. Katniss. It is Katniss.

I don't want to wake her, for fear that she is in some frail condition and needs as much sleep as possible. I sit up in bed. The movement seems to wake her, because she rolls over to face me and smiles.

She looks fine, perfect. She looks a million times better than in my dream. I smile again.

"Hey Catnip," I whisper. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," she tells me. "I was worried about you," she says. This is so typical of Katniss.

"You were worried about me?" I ask. She was the one that was beaten by the Peacekeepers, by Snow's orders, because of what I did, and she was worried about me? "Katniss, seriously. Listen to me," I whisper. I take her hand in mine. "I'm not a good person," I croak out, "and I don't want you to suffer any more. Get away from me while you can, Catnip."

And she looks at me, she looks at me, and she is speechless. Her eyes and mouth are wide, ready to speak, but no sound comes out. Finally a whimper escapes her lips. "Gale, you know that I can't do that. After all this, I'm with you no matter what happens. And if you go down, I'm going down with you."

"Katniss, you say that now," I tell her, "but remember Prim. You made a promise to her, and you know you can't break that." I think of the nightmare I had, the one with the ghastly, deadish Prim. No matter how much Katniss cares about anything, we both know that nothing will ever match the way that she feels about Prim. I see Katniss agreeing silently with what I said.

"Catnip," I say, "I'm sorry that this happened to you. I want you to make it out, okay? And to that you'll have to forget about me. Forget about me," I tell her, "and remember Prim." I fall into my pillow, exhausted, and Katniss quietly gets up, and slips out of the room.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Everyone seems considerably happy and relieved at breakfast. People are smiling, talking carelessly, and acting overall thankful that everyone seems to be okay. Maybe this is because everything is going to be okay, but a part of me feels that it may also be because everything is not going to be okay but no one feels like facing the truth. As much as I hate to admit, I seem to feel that the latter option is correct.

I go back to my room and Portia comes to me, giving me something to wear before I get dressed for real. I'll be getting dressed for the last time. It's a strange thought.

Now that my final days are coming, and I'm sure of it, I look at everything around me. For many things, it's the last time I'll ever see them. I hate to be so sentimental, as I should be staying stronger for Katniss, but I am about to die. Life doesn't get more serious.

A hovercraft appears, and I climb the ladder only to be sucked into it by some kind of current. I sit calmly as they inject the tracker in my arm. I must get used to pain.

They send us to a room for breakfast, but in an effort to be reunited from the interview incident, we had already eaten breakfast this morning. I eat anyway, though, because I know that when I'm in the arena I'll be wishing that I did. I eat until I cannot possibly shove any more food down my throat.

After this, they ship us to the arena - my final resting place. The arena is new, because following the games they are preserved and never used again for its original purposes. If the Hunger Games were to go on forever, they would run out of room for arenas. What would happen then? Would they before forced to stop the Games? Or would they reuse the same arenas?

But this would never happen. Because I have faith that someway, somewhere, somebody will put a stop to the Games. We have the right people. I know it can happen.

I shower, and finally I am dressed. This is the last outfit I will ever wear. I'd better get used to it.

"Gale," Portia says, and I turn around. "This is it. I want to wish you good luck, and I want you to know that no matter what you do, no matter what happens, you have my support." She smiles and holds out her arms for a hug, and I go into them.

As I step into the cylinder, I think. I think of Haymitch, Cinna, Effie, and Portia. I think of whether or not it will pain them to watch me die. I think of how happy they will be to see Katniss go home. I wonder whether my memory will be overshadowed by her victory. I wouldn't care, though, as long as she's alive and well.

The cylinder rises and I take a deep breath. My heart is pounding, and I can't ignore it. And though this seems like a fantasy, too surreal to actually be happening to me, it is real.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"


	12. Twelve

I have sixty seconds. Sixty seconds before I start to die. I survey the arena. The only thing I see is forests. Forests will be our only chance of survival, as Katniss and I already know them so well.

I survey the Cornucopia. There is a bow and arrows sitting there. I've got to get to that. I feel like I should stay out of the bloodbath, but that is put there just for us.

I look at Katniss. She is staring at the bow and arrows too. I give her a shake of my head and I point to my chest. I've got it. You can just run.

I hope she knows what I mean, but there is no time for that. When the cannon fires, I sprint. I'm already a second late because of my interaction with Katniss, but I can't let that distract me. I am fast, and I can do this.

I approach the bow and arrows, but the boy from District 4 is already there. Without even thinking about it, I grab one of the arrows and plunge it straight through his heart. He never saw it coming.

My head spins. I just murdered someone. Somewhere in District 4, a family is bawling, screaming for their son. Somewhere in District 4, a family prays for my death. Somewhere in District 4, I have already made a thousand enemies.

And as much as I try to believe otherwise, I know that this is different. I can kill a thousand squirrels and not feel a thing. But when I kill a person, I know that it has changed my life forever.

Grabbing the bow and the rest of the arrows, I sprint for the woods. However, when I come to them I stop. Where did Katniss go?

I had been in such a hurry to get the bow and arrows for us that I hadn't paid attention to Katniss. How could I be so stupid? What if she was killed in the bloodbath?

I can't afford to stand here and get killed, so I run. I stay close to the edge of the forest and run around the perimeter, looking wildly for Katniss. Suddenly, a rustling noise stops me.

When I listen closer, I can tell that someone is climbing a tree. I quickly load my bow and arrow, not even thinking, and nearly let the arrow fly when I lower my bow. It is Rue, the little girl from District 11.

When the dark-skinned girl sees me, her eyes widen and she is still for a moment, not knowing what to do. I imagine what it is like for her. Does she see her life flash before her eyes? Is she too terrified to think about anything?

Numbly, I drop my bow to show her that I'm not going to shoot and she scrambles further up the tree. I can't shoot her; Katniss takes a liking to her.

So I pick up my bow and arrow and continue to run.

Soon, I have no idea where I'm going. I had tried to stay at the edge of the forest, but I have a feeling now that I am deep within it. But I keep running. The movement seems almost mechanical now; my legs keep running without my mind even thinking about it, and I have a feeling that if I tried to stop running, I couldn't. I am beyond my own control.

The foliage of tree leaves and their trunks is now a green and brown blur. Everything blurs past me; birds, plants, even game that I could easily catch with a couple of snares. If another tribute ran up to me, I probably wouldn't even be able to see them. I am such an easy target right now.

Finally it sinks in. I am actually in the arena. I am running so hard I don't even feel like myself. My mind is detached from my body. And I am going to die. I am going to die running. I am going to die searching for my Katniss.

Where is she? I'd like to think that chances are that all this time I've been running I would have found her by now. But she is probably dead, her beautiful body probably torn to pieces, her lips probably forming my name as she screams to me, even though I am not there for her like I promised I would be.

She is the only thing that matters right now. I am not hungry. I am not thirsty. I am not tired from running. But my body aches because of her, because I don't know where she is, because I can't let her die.

So I keep running. I run until my legs finally give out, and then the blurs swirl, and then everything is gone.

_She didn't need me. I can't blame her for running away. She had to survive. I want her to survive. She's better off without me. I had just created a horrible situation for her, in that interview, and she was endangered. I can't endanger her more by being with her._

_Maybe she has found some allies. Maybe she has teamed up with some people, Careers even, and her chances of survival have now tripled. What can I do for her anyway?_

_Maybe she doesn't even need me for anything after all. Maybe I have relied on her too much, and she has never returned any of my feelings. She only cares about Prim. Deep down, I do know that._

_I won't go looking for her . . . she's better off without me . . ._

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I wake as if from a deep sleep. I try to remember why I'm here. Yes, I was running, running for my Katniss.

I look up and see the tree leaves. I feel my dull aches all over my body. It hardly matters to me now. Even though I am conscious, it doesn't feel like it. I feel like I am watching my life, not living it. Nothing feels real to me. It's funny.

It is dark outside and the Capitol seal is glowing in the sky. My stomach turns, and my senses awaken. Katniss . . .

It is times like these when I wish we didn't live in District 12. We are either first or last for everything. In this case we're last, and I don't think I can wait that long. I can't bear the thought of waiting to see if Katniss is alive. She has to be, but I need to know now.

I see the faces flash by, too slowly. Both tributes from District 3. The girl from District 4. The boy from District 4 . . . the one that I killed. The boy from 5, both from 6, both from 7, both from 9, and the boy from 10. And that is it. That is it!

Katniss. A smile actually spreads across my face. Katniss is safe. One day has past, and Katniss is safe. But then the smile fades.

She doesn't need me.


	13. Thirteen

I get up. The best time to travel is probably at night, when most people are asleep, or at least not alert. At this point I have two options: I could continue my search for Katniss, which at this point seems futile, or I could find somewhere to spend the night. I don't have any supplies, though. All I have is this bow and arrow. I am beginning to realize that I am hungry and thirsty, but I know there's not much that I can do. I'll just have to wait.

I decide to try to find somewhere to spend the night, because Katniss is safe. She is not dead, at least, but she doesn't need me. I could try to pretend that isn't true, but I know that it is. She never needed me. I was the one who needed her, and right now, she needs to stay alive. My being there would do nothing to help that.

As I wander blindly through the forest, I am aware that my senses are on high alert. Every smell, sound, or sight distracts me. I look around constantly for danger, for other tributes, and I keep my bow and arrow at the ready, checking every so often to make sure that it is in good condition. I need to make sure that if I have to use it, I am ready. I am ready to kill.

Suddenly, I stop dead in my tracks. It is far away, but I can hear a girl let out a high pitched squeal that is stopped abruptly as if someone put a hand right up to her mouth. I can't help fearing that it is Katniss, but I don't think that she would make that kind of noise. It's most likely one of the Careers, one of the pretty, popular ones who doesn't look fit to fight at all. Still, the fact that it might be Katniss haunts me. Yes, she isn't dead, but what if she's close to it? She could very well be; I have absolutely no way of knowing.

Quietly, cautiously, I step forward carefully towards the noise. I put one foot in front of the other, slowly, and then stop again. Through the curtain of tree leaves and bushes, I can make out two figures, a girl and a boy. Inching forward, I realize that what I'm seeing is the girl from District 4 and the boy from District 7.

What are they doing together? She's a Career, isn't she? Why is she not with the Career pack? What on Earth would cause her to ally with some kid from District 7?

I move closer, trying to learn as much as I can, and also figuring that I haven't got much to lose right now. Considering how tense and anxious I am about Katniss, my mind can afford to be quickly distracted.

"Don't scream," the boy tells her. He must have been the one to muffle her screams. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Okay," she says, "I believe you. Look… my whole life, all I've done is train for this moment. And being a Career… I just want to win," she admits. "I want to come out on top, and I want to show all these other Careers that District 4 has got what it takes. But I don't want to do it alone, and considering the other District 4 tribute couldn't even make it past the bloodbath -" she stops talking, as if she is so overcome by the shame of her fellow tribute that she can't even speak.

I too, must stop and think, because I am the one that killed him. I shudder. It's still such an odd thing to think – I killed him.

No matter what happens, nothing will ever compare to the feeling of killing a human being. I can kill a million animals without feeling a single negative emotion. But when you kill a human being, it's so different. It must just be the fact that he's a human, and I'm a human, and even though we have never met, just being humans, the both of us, connects us on an emotional level more than we can ever know. It's like an unspoken connection – I too have felt pain, I too have been happy; I have lived a life not much different than your own, and we both share a goal of staying alive… but I have killed you.

I blink my eyes quickly as if to clear the thoughts from my head. Right now all I can think is how much I don't want to make it out of here. For one thing, that would mean that I'd be without Katniss, which would automatically be a reason to lose all will to live. But also, I can already feel that I've changed so dramatically and so quickly that if I ever tried to live a normal life again I never could. This stuff messes with you, badly.

"Anyways," the girl continues, "I need an ally. And I think you're it," she says, and somehow in the darkness, I can feel her smile at him. Somehow also, I can feel him smile back.

"I can do that," he says. "Now, where to start?"

"A good night's sleep," she says. "And then in the morning, we have start with a bang. Let's leave the Careers for last, though. But we can start with District 12."

My heart freezes. District 12. Little does she know that half of District 12 is standing within earshot. My instinct is to back away, to run away, to sprint and sprint until I find Katniss, take her in my arms and get us out of here. But then it strikes me.

They're not the only ones going for us. Though I can't hear it, everyone is going after us. Everyone is going after her. And although alliances may form, there are no true allies in the other districts. Alliances are quite temporary; in the end, everyone (besides me and Katniss, obviously) hates each other with a passion that burns deep in their souls.

"You know what?" the boy asks, and I feel the excitement in his voice. "Let's take the girl first. And then we can wait, and think how much the boy is suffering, and let him live with that… and then we can take him too. How cruel what that be," he says, and he laughs. He laughs.

Without even thinking, I run forward to them. I don't even have time to load an arrow into my bow; I just take one arrow in my left hand, one arrow in my right, and before the two tributes can pick up their own weapons, think, or make a sound, I plunge both arrows straight into their hearts, just like I did to the first boy. They are dead.

Two cannons sound, and I can feel myself shaking. I can't even think; my body feels numb. Slowly, I back away, looking at what I've just done.

I couldn't help it. I couldn't stand the thought of them going after Katniss, going after us. I look at their faces. They are frozen in terror; I scared them senseless. I imagine their last thoughts… I imagine everybody watching the Games… what do they think of me now?

I feel oddly powerful. My senses are heightened, and a sickly grimace forms on my face. I can protect her. I can do it. She might not need me now, but she will.

I look around, and then I turn on my heels and run.

I run, and I have no clue where I'm going, but I cannot afford to waste any more time. I need to find Katniss, I must; I need to save her. I don't care if she needs me or not. At least I'd be with her.

I'd protect her; they'd never be able to take her. But first, I need to find her. I need to find her, and that thought fuels me like nothing else in the world could.

I can save you. Just let me find you, I can do this. I can save you.

Let me prove it.


End file.
